What Frightens Fear
by Kate-No Stranger to Sarcasm
Summary: In the end the Nightmares dragged Pitch into his lair; but what could they force the embodiment of fear to see? Even ancient memories from Kozmotis Pitchiner begin to surface, stirring emotions that not even ten thousand fearlings had been able to fully eradicate. Feedback appreciated.


**Author's Note:** My fist Guardian story, very short, concerning what Pitch saw after the Nightmares dragged him away. Please note that I'm not a native English speaker or writer, so there a bound to be a few mistakes. Currently I'm working on several stories, one series of stories about Pitch's and the Guardians past, where everything takes place on earth(unlike the original books; the first to be found under the title _Of Nightmares&Guardians-How a hero became Pitch & a priest the_ Sandman), and another taking place after this one, therefore also the movie, which it will continue. I've never read the books, only watched the movie, and read a few wiki articles out of curiosity, so I get names and relationships right. The first name of Pitch's wife I made up, seeing as she was only called Lady Pitchiner in the articles. Hope you'll enjoy the short and keep reading once the others come out.

By the way; ever heard the song _Reborn_ by Stone Sour? Since the movie I can't listen to it without being reminded of Pitch; give it a listen or read the lyrics. Also Iron Maiden's _Fear of the Dark…_the title just says it, and Disturbed's _The Night_.

**What frightens Fear**

Everything was concealed by darkness, which he ought to now so well; he had lived in it for centuries. Was he not darkness itself? Was he not everything that any living creature feared? But this was different, alien. He stepped forward and very slowly it got brighter, until he found himself in a room, not his lair has he'd expected. This place was familiar, though he hadn't been here in millennia. The walls were white, shapes of twines painted on it in brown and orange, the furniture made of dark wood; a few chairs with red and beige pillows, the walls lined by shelves filled with dozens of scrolls. Just in front of him was a doorway leading to a semi-circular balcony, with a beautiful view over the cliff on which top the villa stood. He had lived here so long ago, this had been his home…back when he'd been Kozmotis Pitchiner. It was little more than a name to him now.

A woman in a green dress stood on the balcony, the white curtains moving around her in the wind, as she turned to look at him. Her lovely face was so familiar, and so was the wavy, dark brown hair framing it, the warm green eyes that had once been full of love, and worry. Now they looked at him with fear and no recognition at all. The lips he had kissed so often and kissed him now trembled, as she pressed something closer to her chest. From this distant it looked like a little girl.

"Amina." Pitch spoke, taking another step towards his wife. She took one back, closer to the balustrade. "No, don't!" Despite who he was, he would never harm her, neither of them. He couldn't allow them to get hurt.

"Stay away from me, shadow." She demanded her voice strong and clear despite her fear. How he'd missed that voice, though only now he realized it.

"You must remember me." His words were quiet, perhaps she couldn't hear him, but he was too taken aback to speak any louder.

It was then that he once more tried to approached, and she turned to the girl in her arms. Pitch could hear her whisper. "Please forgive me, Kozmotis."

He leaped forward as she jumped on the balustrade, his hands reached out, but too late. All he could do was watching her fall, down into the ocean. Shocked Pitch stood there, hands clenching the balustrade. Very slowly he went down on his knees, still clinging on to where his wife had just jump off from. She had killed herself. She had killed herself and taken their daughter with her.

A wave of despair washed over him. He had not been here for them, and he suddenly realized this was not real; it was a memory for the most part, a memory of the Fearlings, the Dream Pirates that had possessed him, turned him into who he was now. Pitch Black.

Kozmotis Pitchiner had been away to stop an attack, which had turned out to be staged to lure him from his family. Upon his return he had found his home raided and took the invaders prisoner. He had searched for his wife and daughter, not wanting to believe what the Fearlings had told him, not wanting to believe they were dead. He had run down to the ocean, fought his way through the waves and carried his beloved out of the water. Much like now, his knees had given in as he'd held her, her body already cold and lifeless in his arms. His daughter had been nowhere to be found. For centuries he'd thought her dead. In truth, Emily had been lost and grew to hate him over the years, convinced her father had abandoned her. Instead Kozmotis had hunted down all remaining Fearlings, and volunteered to stand guard over their prison alone…until years later they had tricked him into opening their door, with his daughter's own voice. Things would have been so much different had he only known she lived, had he only sought his daughter. When Pitch had seen her again, Emily Jane had been a grown woman, Mother Nature herself. Back then her resentment had hardly touched him, now however as he remembered the incident, it stung him like a dagger. He had failed as a husband and father, he had failed every duty, all he'd once cared for.

Thankfully everything turned black again, and the balustrade disappeared underneath his hands. It was time he woke up, but Pitch couldn't stay in his lair. He needed distraction. A few seconds later Pitch appeared out of a building's towering shadow. Usually he didn't come out at day, the light was uncomfortable, and in his weakened state. Making himself comfortable on a rooftop, remaining in the shadows, he watched the people on the streets, and the café on the opposite side. It irked him how happy and untroubled they all seemed, the cheerful chatting almost like nails being scratched across a blackboard.

The cool wind came suddenly, and Pitch looked around, knowing who was coming. Indeed, a few seconds later Jack Frost came flying down the street, the few kids looking up at him, some waving to the obvious confusion of the adults. Pitch could feel the jealousy burning in him. All his plans and the one ending up being believe in was that boy. It was frustrating, not to mention that there were now five Guardians. Pitch would have been victorious, all his plans successful had it not been for Jack.

Something made him follow Jack; it was as if his feed were moving on their own. Pitch caught up with him at the lake, where Frost watched the children play. The bogeyman approached from behind, his scythe ready in his hands. His anger had completely taken over at this point, thrown all caution in the wind.

Suddenly Jack turned around and walked right through Pitch.

The scythe merged with the shadows again, as Pitch went stiff. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening, this was impossible! His hands ran over his chest frantically, his eyes widened in shock, looking after Jack who was flying off once more. Panic flooded his mind, this had to be a mistake of sorts, and he rushed to the closest shadow, reappearing at the Pole moments later, somewhere next to one of the heavy bookshelves, which were all around the place. He spotted North, who was talking to one of his yetis, discussing the coloring of some toy. In his hurry to reach him, Pitch almost stumbled over his own feet, and came to a stop right in front of the Guardian. He was waving around with his tattooed arms…

They went through Pitch without meeting any resistance.

For a moment his mind went blank, before Pitch collapsed to his knees once more. What did this mean, how could the Guardians stop believing and fearing him? They were fighting for centuries; they could not deny his very existence. Could they? Pitch walked back to where he'd turned up, and with his back against the solid wooden wall he sat down. He needed to think. If he couldn't affect the Guardians, could he yet still affect the children? If not, was he damned to forever just sit back and watch them live their lives, forgotten by all? Would he grow even weaker and finally fade out of existence entirely? No children, there is no such thing as a bogeyman anymore. He had lost everything, his family, his purpose, without any chance of ever regaining it again, and Pitch was drowning in these thoughts, his trembling hands running over his face and through his hair.

Around him the yetis continued to work, undisturbed by the cowering bogeyman, North joyful laughter booming in the great hall from time to time. On the globe in its center, the countless little lights shined as brightly as ever and from a cloudless sky, the moon smiled upon the earth.

What Pitch didn't know was that he had been lying in is lair the entire time The Nightmares he'd once created, circling around him like vultures, while always one at a time would go through him. Every time they did, his body arched, and his mouth opened for a soundless scream. His face was twisted in agony at everything he was forced to witness and feel. At some point they would allow him to wake up, for now however, they were feasting on his fears and despair.


End file.
